Boots and Blessings

Christmas never comes by itself It always brings along its companions of prior years Hanging this ornament on the tree, the one from years ago This one that was my mother’s,  That one the baby made in kindergarten, 30 years ago We carefully nestle the Nutcracker among some ribbons So you can’t see the place where it broke that one year We always make that special cake that Nanna used to bake But never turnips, because Papa was allergic, tho he’s been gone 6 years now At Christmas, he is still here, we laugh telling the story for the thousandth time When the candle wreath caught fire and he had to toss it outside in the snow He moves through our gathering with the other family members long gone Touching gently the angel figurine Great-grandmother brought over from the old country. Christmases past – so many, one every single year! – are layered one on top of the other, on top of the other. The years of joy, the years of sorrow, too. Layers upon layers upon layers. We say, enjoy this